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Why I Wake Early

Mary Oliver

Top 10 Best Quotes

“The Old Poets Of China Wherever I am, the world comes after me. It offers me its busyness. It does not believe that I do not want it. Now I understand why the old poets of China went so far and high into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.”

“DAISIES It is possible, I suppose that sometime we will learn everything there is to learn: what the world is, for example, and what it means. I think this as I am crossing from one field to another, in summer, and the mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either knows enough already or knows enough to be perfectly content not knowing. Song being born of quest he knows this: he must turn silent were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display the small suns of their center piece, their -- if you don't mind my saying so -- their hearts. Of course I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know? But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given, to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly; for example -- I think this as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch -- the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the daisies for the field.”

“Though I play at the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing, but looking, and touching, and loving”

“When it's over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement.”

“Why I Wake Early Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the miserable and the crotchety— best preacher that ever was, dear star, that just happens to be where you are in the universe to keep us from ever-darkness, to ease us with warm touching, to hold us in the great hands of light— good morning, good morning, good morning. Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness.”

“Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!      What a task          to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours,     and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One”

“Wherever I am, the world comes after me. It offers me its busyness. It does not believe that I do not want it.”

“Oh, to love what is lovely and will not last! What a task to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.”

“Oh, I would like to live in an empty house, with vines for walls, and a carpet of grass. No planks, no plastic, no fiberglass.”

“How blue is the sea, how blue is the sky, how blue and tiny and redeemable everything is, even you, even your eyes, even your imagination. The Soul at Last The Lord’s terrifying kindness has come to me. It was only a small silvery thing—say a piece of silver cloth, or a thousand spider webs woven together, or a small handful of aspen leaves, with their silver backs shimmering. And”

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Book Keywords:

poetry, poem, solitude

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